Chapter 210 Battle of Macragge (4)

You were born in a waterfall, the water rumbling. Outside you is gray, the rocks trap you, you see through the water the pale sky, the darkness beyond the sky, they fall and grab you, the rope is outside you, you are in Osiris, you are All us within us, all minds within minds, individuals within a collection…

——No, I am Robert Guilliman, son of Konor Guilliman, son of Archon of Macragge, Lord of the Ultramarines! Alien beast, idiot, arrogant gambler, get out of my heart, die and turn into ashes! You have no right to control me!

Robert barely recovered the form in his consciousness from his mind that had been penetrated by psychic energy. In the spiritual storm of psychic invasion, the huge weight was pervasive, eternal together with the weird sharp laughter and endless gray shadows. The ground stirred with echoes of resentment.

He knelt on one knee and used a dagger to support his body. He saw the shadow of the real world behind the reflection below his knees. The combat boots connected with each other. The real him roared loudly in the reflection of the world, and blood-red liquid flowed from his helmet and neck. It seemed as if water was flowing backwards through the gaps in the armor.

His warriors let out purely physiological screams in overwhelming pain. This was an attack from a new realm, a force beyond the Astartes' ability to cope. The warriors' control over their bodies was reduced to a minimum, and they were The orange-red power that erupted from the gray-white steam that emerged from the alien lord penetrated and defeated him.

Robert Guilliman roared angrily, feeling the majestic anger flowing through every nerve node and the depth of his bones and blood in his body.

He dug the dagger into the one-way mirror at his feet, but this abnormal violence only caused a wave of ripples like white mist, and every cry of every warrior penetrated deep into his soul. A torture more devastating than the pressure he was experiencing.

He realized that he had to leave this realm of psychic mind control, before he himself began to be truly controlled and affected, no, before his warriors were destroyed by the Osiris psychic race, he had to break through the psychic realm. barrier.

He heard some plaintive cries coming from the alien, and then he decided that he would chop off the head of the alien lord, rip off its hundreds of limbs one by one, and stuff them into its guts.

He tried it a hundred times, maybe more. Time in the mental space and the passage of time and space in reality are two unrelated things.

Each of his attacks was like a heavy sword cutting through the water, leaving nothing but disgusting ripples. He staggered under the weight of the alien lord, moving forward but always staying in place.

The pain of blasphemy spread outward from his insides, and he seemed to be falling apart from every cell. His consciousness and soul were fighting left and right in the face of a new power that he didn't know how to resist, blindly searching for any possible breakthrough.

Data and experience are invalid in the world of psychic energy, and theory and reality are completely overturned. His gifts and abilities had no place in the immaterial world, which doubled his wrath.

He lowered his head and peered into the real world through the infinite one-way lens. Most of the warriors had been knocked down and fell into suspended animation or true eternal sleep, but one warrior among them seemed to be mastering some top-secret method, based on talent. A brighter and sharper blue light emitted in his eyes, helping him struggle to break free from the alien's control, but was limited to unpolished beginner characteristics and could not develop further.

Roboute Guilliman recognized him quickly, Ptolemy, he remembered the warrior's name, and he derived from that warrior something sufficient to support him in continuing to struggle in the spiritual world with all the physical attacks he could think of. , even if he has no intention of giving up or retreating in the slightest.

He knew that he had to get out of the situation in front of him, but every blow he made could not land somewhere realistic enough to harm the psychic race. The mental space he was in was infinitely narrow and vast, and his body was in reality. He struggled to hold on, tightly connected to him like a strange reflection.

He needs a breakthrough, a supernatural power that is enough to awaken him from the real or spiritual aspect, a synergy that is enough to smash and destroy this soul cage.

He regretted his lack of psychic training. There was no doubt that this training would have to be at the forefront of his daily work schedule someday in the future. He might not need to control this irrational ability that went against the truth of the Empire. But he must have resistance, but all this must be completed after today's disaster is over...

Another sound came from reality, more rapid and intensive firepower, and a more regular and powerful array, approaching the room where the Alien King was.

Robert Guilliman's heartbeat quickened, and his head, which was so painful that it seemed as if it would crack in the next moment, gave him an answer. It was undoubtedly the Iron Warriors who followed the Ultramarines into the Hourglass Space Station and cleared away the pursuers from behind for the Ultramarines. He shouted for these Fourth Legion warriors to attack with little psychic powers, but in reality he only let out a whimper.

Then, in the reflection of the universe, he saw a pair of huge steel boots approaching, followed by cold armor with black spots burned by the steam, and a hot war hammer filled with power light. , and further down is a broad chest, and an iron helmet covering the face. Soldiers wearing yellow and black striped ceramic armor surrounded the giant, and the giant raised a hand to signal them not to move rashly.

Then the giant came towards him.

Robert Guilliman didn't know why Perturabo was here, but his appearance immediately eased the control of the Alien King over him - no alien had the ability to control the most unique existence between two universes at the same time. The pressure on his body was immediately relieved, and the cage of white mist and water waves showed glass-like cracks, and the reality of him no longer trembled. He punched into the ground, and simple cracks spread from under his fist.

Still a little short. Still a little short of strength. Still a force from the outside to the inside to tear this cage apart from one side of reality.

The Iron Lord approached him, his steps slowed down by the psychic energy given to him by the Alien King, but fortunately he was still firm and unshakable. Robert's body trembled and lost strength in the iron armor. He had been holding on to the storm of psychic energy for too long, so he was falling towards Perturabo.

Perturabo dragged a heavy hammer to his side, swung away several psychic species that approached, and supported Robert Guilliman's stiff body with one hand, seeming to be sizing up his situation. Roboute Guilliman wondered if Perturabo knew some psychic tricks, even though he had never heard of Perturabo learning to use psychic powers.

He was only one step away from breaking this mental blockade, but this last step never made it through.

Perturabo watched him, and Roboute knew that his brother knew that he could not control his body. The Lord of the Fourth Legion had a better analytical ability than him, and his experience was far greater. Some of the precise data handed over by the Iron Warriors also had an answer at this time. Perturabo had been in the shadow of the Battle of Osiris, silently completing all the work he could do.

Roboute didn't know what he was asking for, or maybe he had nothing else to ask for. His brother supported him and helped him in places that didn't need to be known. The pain he caused from the psychic control was soothed by a warm touch. But he would talk to Perturabo next time, maybe knowing that Perturabo was here, they could have completed a better battle...

Bang.

The powerful attack from outside finally broke the prison of the spirit, and the gray-white space of white mist and flowing water shattered, accompanied by a sharp pain from Robert Guilliman's abdomen. His consciousness immediately returned to reality and found a stable place in the brain of the body.

One of Perturabo's hands was holding his shoulder strongly, and the other hand was clenched into a fist and stopped near his abdomen. Obviously, he had just punched him hard in the abdomen. Robert retched and pulled Perturabo's arm to barely stand firm, looking for the chaotic center of gravity and the touch of ground.

"Awake?" Perturabo asked, picking up his warhammer, and nodded to the alien king who was twitching because of the psychic control. "That's your prey, Robert."

——

The hourglass space station exploded behind them, just like every alien warship that exploded in the Osiris star cluster during these times, and turned into part of the countless fine dust in the universe after a moment of dazzling brilliance.

Robert Guilliman sat in his chair, blinking slowly, quietly watching the source of the rebellion in the Osiris Cluster being annihilated in the burning.

The control of psychic energy did not cause too much damage to his body, and the only minor scars were slowly healed under the extraordinary self-healing ability of the Primarch. But the mental tug-of-war made him fall into a deep fatigue that was almost impossible to move. In any second, he might suddenly fall into a deep sleep, allowing his mind to get enough rest in the sleep for several consecutive days.

Perturabo stayed by his side and watched the end of the psychic species with him.

"You did a good job." The Iron Lord said, "The battle damage ratio was well controlled, the strategy was clear and effective, and the inability to resist psychic attacks was not your problem. If it was me who was attacked by the Alien King there, I would also fall into a state of being unable to control myself."

"Did you do well in the end?" Robert asked softly, his voice hoarse.

"If you mean cutting the alien king into a ball of semi-solid steam paste, and stealing thirteen of our bolters and wasting thirteen sets of Iron Warriors bullets on that ball of paste, I will ask the Ultramarines to reimburse our military expenses for this matter." Perturabo said seriously.

This made Robert laugh briefly: "I will, brother."

The Iron Lord patted Robert Guilliman on the shoulder and called up the interface of Rogal Dorn's perspective on the data board.

Since Robert Guilliman was now unable to move, the Imperial Fists and the small group of Iron Warriors sent to assist were taking care of the situation in the hive city and finishing the operation to suppress the rebellion. Guilliman silently watched what the aliens did to the hive city through Dorn's perspective.

To his surprise, the aliens did not destroy the hive city, or make it worse-it is difficult for a hive city to become worse.

On the contrary, the aliens transformed the surface of Sepetus XII, knocking down the dirty and deformed buildings, demolishing the crumbling buildings, and replacing them with the aliens' own gorgeous and distinctive corridors, mazes and buildings.

The clock tower with a strange design stands tall in the hive, and transparent crystals and clean golden decorations decorate the connection points of all building blocks. The huge transparent hourglass contains milky white mist that does not know how to exist, which serves as the support and decoration of the corridor bridge and track. The black fog accumulated by thousands of years of heavy industry in the sky was dispelled, and the grayish-white and blue clear light roof became the background color of the world.

This place is like a well-designed museum, collecting the last afterglow of a brand new civilization.

Rogal Dorn led his army through the complex corridors, looking for the governor of the hive city.

Since the alien king was dead, he did not encounter any enemies, not even the automatic defense mechas and shields. The Osiris retreated on both sides of the street. After losing the control of the aliens, they had no power to resist the Imperial Expeditionary Force, and their rebellion suddenly had enough reasons.

Dorn's warriors advanced quietly. Robert recognized Captain Dantioch, who led a small group of Iron Warriors, and he was advancing side by side with an exceptionally tall Imperial Fist warrior.

A gust of air blew behind him, and the craftsman Morse walked out of the void and came to him.

"What are you going to do with this hive city, Robert?" the craftsman asked. "The Emperor will not be too involved. You have the right to do anything with this planet."

Before Robert could give an answer, his Ultramarines commanders stepped into the hall, without helmets, and saluted their legion masters in unison.

Robert turned the chair around and faced his warriors.

After the first battle, Robert obviously found that there was a deeper trust on the faces of these soldiers, and this trust was not from genes or blood. This is the power of war, the power of victory. Even he himself got a different kind of encouragement from this battle.

His muscles automatically found a solemn smile that was just right for this moment. "You did a good job, soldiers."

"This is what we should do, sir." The soldiers replied. Robert identified each of them, recalling every decision they made and every thing they accomplished during the entire battle. He was pleased to find that these outstanding officers showed many advantages, some of which even he himself needed to learn.

Maybe after they returned, he could talk to these officers one by one and discuss some practical theories. Not now, he was too tired.

He tried not to sound too tense: "Glenn, your strategy worked."

The deputy commander of the legion lowered his head: "I almost led the 13th Legion into a huge trap."

"That was before I joined the legion. Don't feel guilty about it anymore, Glenn Wosoto." Guilliman said, "Marius Gage, every pursuit you have done is excellent."

The muscles on Gage's face moved, suppressing the corners of his mouth that were raised: "Thank you, sir."

Guilliman continued to identify his warriors in the crowd. He saw Valentus Doro: "Valentus Doro, you have achieved excellent coordination in every cooperation with the brother legion. Your storm bird killed the last batch of obstacles before we boarded."

He did not receive the joy he imagined.

"That's not me, sir." Valentus said calmly, "That's my adjutant, Verus Caspian. He died in the final attack, right next to you."

Guilliman's voice was stuck in his throat, and he used his willpower to barely wipe out his surprise and frustration. "We will remember his bravery, and he will be buried in the memorial gardens of Macragge."

"Thank you," Valentus paused, and there was a noticeable tremor in his tone, "Thank you, father."

--

He completed the rest of the interview. He called out the names of each warrior accurately, and he communicated with each warrior. He did not make any mistakes in the merits of the war.

He said goodbye to them: "Goodbye, my children."

His mind floated in a light and empty space, and his breathing was intermittent and unstable until Perturabo patted his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I punched you before." The Iron Lord said calmly, "Does it hurt, Guilliman?"

"No, it's okay. You woke me up." Guilliman said, took a deep breath, turned back to the chair, and faced the data board of Rogal Dorn's perspective again. Artisan Morse reappeared in his field of vision, and the sharp facial lines highlighted a subtle indifference and thinking. This made him uncomfortable, but also made him more sober.

"Dorn found the rebellious planetary ruler." Morse said. "He just discovered that the ruler assassinated the previous ruler and introduced aliens. What are you going to do?"

"Execute him." Guilliman said, feeling a cold shudder like a foreboding rolling over his arm.

"What about this modified hive?"

Guilliman took a moment to think: "Demolish. Leave no trace of alien civilization."

Morse nodded: "Dorn should have heard it. But I'm actually a little surprised, because you really like to emphasize the preservation and continuation of civilization."

"That's alien, not human." Guilliman said.

"Imperial Truth, very good." Morse replied, "In fact, just from an aesthetic point of view, I quite like their taste, not to mention that their race itself has been cut off by you."

Guilliman's silence was prolonged.

"Humans can do better." He then said, "I believe that humans can always do better. We don't need to identify with aliens and learn from an alien civilization that has ended. We have our own future and hope."

Morse covered his face with his hands and laughed briefly.

"Is this a test?" Guilliman asked, "A test of my obedience to the will of the Imperium?"

"What? No, Primarch. Of course not," Morse said, "Discussions about civilization are just some of my personal hobbies."

"Conor Connor also likes this topic." Guilliman relaxed a little, "It's a pity that we can't communicate in real time, but you can discuss it after we go back. I told him that I would be back within a month. Now we have one week left, so we have enough time to put an end to the rebellion in the Osiris Cluster, reappoint the governor, etc."

Perturabo suddenly stood up, with obvious alertness and some kind of belated regret on his face. "Did you tell me your return time?"

"Yes," Guilliman was a little puzzled, "Of course I need to tell you in advance about my departure."

"Did you bring all the Ultramarines out?"

"This battle in the Osiris Cluster requires sufficient manpower. In fact, you also find that 33,000 people are not enough manpower..." Guilliman said halfway, suddenly opened his eyes wide, and hurriedly supported the handrail to get up, which almost made him fall. "Return! I understand what you mean, return now!"